Disclaimer: Witch Hunter Robin does not belong to me. Ah, you know the drill.
A/N: This is my first shot at a Witch Hunter Robin fic in Robin's POV. I just started watching WHR recently, and I love it! XD I got the idea of writing something up about Robin's feelings/thoughts about Amon by using some of the imagery from the OP. I know this might be OOC, considering that I've only watched up to episode 14 so far, and am still quite quite confused about a lot of things, but well, this is my take on Robin's feelings on Amon. Hope you enjoy it! Ooh ^^ if you don't mind, it'd be awfully nice if you could drop a review or two as to what you think about this oneshot =) Thanks~
Fixation on You
I can't stop thinking about you.
There are no words to describe this feeling inside. There is.something about you that draws me towards you; much like a moth feels attracted to a light. No matter how much I try to detract my thoughts from you, they always return, somehow, someway. Why, I ask myself, why must I feel attracted to someone who could be none other than a walking, talking, breathing ice block who seems to care nothing for people, except for the work that he does. Why, should I care for someone whose eyes seem so cold and never ending; someone who only seems to hold the likeness of a human being in a shell, albeit a very striking and handsome one. Someone who is heartless, someone who has no emotion.
I can find no answers in my mind, and I can't help but glance at you while you drive. I stare at your face, somehow hoping for answers that I know will never be granted, no matter how much I wish and long for them. Your dark eyes turn towards me for an instant, a wordless inquiry as to why I stare at you so, before returning to the road ahead. I bite back a sigh as I turn my eyes away from you to look at the scenery that rushes by past my window. I shouldn't be thinking such fancy things, this much I know, but my traitorous heart demands otherwise. Why do I wish for something that is so far off in the unattainable distance? Although we are partners at work, there is nothing between us, not even friendship, but just the orders that are given and followed.
But if that is so, then why do I sometimes feel as if there could be a possible chance that you even care for me?
Why have I fallen into this meaningless obsession for you?
I sit alone in my room sometimes, knees drawn up to my chin as I put my arms around them. Although this was the way I relaxed while I was with STN in Italy when I was off-duty, I cannot do the same here, because thoughts of you invade my mind constantly. I do nothing but surrender to my thoughts of you. Today, I'm thinking about how you prepare for work. I can imagine that you come out of the shower, the dark tresses glued to your face by water, steam from the bathroom trailing you as you exit. You towel your hair until it's only slightly damp, leaving the rest to dry on its own. Then it's the black sweater you pull on, followed by that Chinese vest, and you grab the Orbo gun holster that lies on the table, strapping it onto your shoulders. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror after pulling on the long trailing trench coat, then leave for work as you pull the Orbo cross necklace of your dresser by the end of the string.
My thoughts change direction as I imagine the way you work on a hunt on some dark misty night. The fog surrounds you like a shroud, clinging to everything around you, making you another shadow in the darkness. It's as if I'm watching through a glass screen, yet another one of those images made up in my mind. It brings us so close, but sets us so far apart. My hand touches the image of you through the glass screen fondly, far, far away from you; something that can only be achieved within my mind, and never in reality. I watch as you enter the warehouse, silent determination the only emotion on your face; you stride calmly in, confident of the damage you can do, but remain cautious at all times. This much I know from working with you on some of the missions that we have had. I wonder if you know how much I watch you? This thought goes through my head for a split-second before the imagery returns to watching you Hunt.
I feel like screaming as I see the Orbo cross dangle slightly around your neck, starting to glow a repulsive green. Both of my hands pound upon the glass as I repeat your name over and over again, "Amon.Amon.", but you do not hear me. I can't tell you how much the use of Orbo scares me; the one substance that restrains a Witch's powers, deems them helpless against the strength of the Orbo guns that you, and the rest of the team use against them. I wonder sometimes.would it work the same way against me? Would you one day turn your gun on me? My Craft is not unlike that of the witches, much as I would like to deny it. Maybe one day Solomon will turn against me and tell you to hunt me down as a Witch. I can all too clearly see your dark eyes, emotionless as your gun points at me; I can almost feel the Orbo pellet enter my heart, shattering and bringing pain and desperation.
The image continues as you pull your gun from its holster within your trench coat, and I pull an arm over my eyes, not wanting to see what happens next. You level it at the unfortunate Witch and pull the trigger. The bullets speed from the gun in slow motion, smoke trailing behind. The unfortunate witch goes down as you watch calmly, then check his brain activity before calling in the Factory. You leave as soon as they arrive, never looking back again.
And I cry. I cry for the emotion that you don't show. I cry for the fear I feel inside as a Craft-user whose powers are almost identical to those of a Witch's. I cry for the Witch who has never wanted to be a Witch but an ordinary person, but who has no chance at all for freedom, for life out under the sun and blue sky. The image of you fades away, but the image of you wielding a gun at me does not. The look in your eyes haunts me throughout my dreams.
It doesn't matter how far away from Raven's Place I go, how far away from you I am. Even when you are assuredly no where near me in person, my thoughts can never leave you; I cannot escape.
I cannot escape from this fixation on you.